12 


HUH, 


I*WS*RAT*D         BY 

HERNAMDO       G.    VILLA 


rV. 


: 


LITTLE  TALES  OF 
THE  DESERT 


ETHEL  TWYCROSS  FOSTER,  L.  L.  B. 

// 

Member  Suffolk  Bar 


Illustrations  by 
HERNANDO  G.  VILLA 


PUBLISHED  BT  THE  AUTHOR 
LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 


COPYHIGHT  1913  BY  ETHEL  T.  FoSTEK 


EINOSLET,  MASON  AND  COLLINS  CO. 

PRINTERS  AND  BINDERS 

LOS  ANGELES 


322  2  ^ 
Bancroft  Ubnay 


CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  DESERT 


CD 


'AEY  was  worried.  To-morrow  would  be  Christmas.  Christ- 
mas! a  day  always  spent  close  to  New  York  City,  that  place 
where  Santa  Glaus  obtained  all  the  contents  of  his  wonderful 
pack.  Here  she  was,  out  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Arizona  Desert.  Her 
little  head  was  sorely  puzzled  over  many  things.  Around  her  were 
sand,  rocks  and  mountains;  no  snow,  no  ice,  save  on  the  tops  of  the 
distant  peaks.  How  was  Santa  to  draw  his  gift-laden  sleigh  over 
barren  stretches  of  sage  brush  and  sand?  Besides,  he  surely  would 
be  far  too  warm,  with  his  heavy  fur  coat  and  cap,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  poor  reindeer  who  could  scarcely  live  in  such  a  country. 

Mary  and  her  mother  had  joined  her  father  at  his  mine,  where 
they  were  going  to  spend  the  winter,  sleeping  in  a  tent,  eating  in  a 
tent,  but  spending  the  remainder  of  the  time  out  of  doors,  under  the 
clear,  blue  sky  and  breathing  the  sweet,  pure  air. 

Mary  enjoyed  all  these  things  and  no  troubled  thought  crossed 
her  mind  until  the  approach  of  Christmas.  She  sought  counsel  with 
her  mother,  but  Mother  merely  looked  wise  and  said  "wait." 
Mothers,  somehow,  seem  to  know  all  about  these  things  and  Mary  had 
great  confidence  in  hers,  and  so  she  ceased  to  worry,  but  still  she 
wondered. 

Christmas  Eve  at  last  arrived  and  Mary  with  many  misgivings 
retired  early,  as  children  often  do  in  order  to  hasten  the  coming  of 
the  day.  She  slept  well,  but  awoke  just  as  the  sun  came  peeping 
up  from  behind  the  distant  mountains. 

She  sat  up  on  her  cot  very  suddenly  and  rubbed  her  eyes.  What 
was  that  rapidly  moving  object  coming  over  the  brow  of  the  nearest 
hill?  She  hurried  into  her  clothes  and  went  out.  As  the  speck  came 

[5] 


nearer  it  began  to  take  definite  form.  But  how  strange !  What  did  it 
all  meanf  Mary  stood  and  stared  with  wide  open  eyes.  Quickly 
it  came  nearer  and  nearer  and  presently  rolled  over  the  nearest  rise 
and  swung  up  in  front  of  the  camp. 

Mary  had  seen  many  interesting  sights  during  her  short  life  of 
six  years,  but  never  one  so  strange. 

First  came  twelve  little  burros  with  harnesses  nearly  hidden  by 
holly  berries,  while  behind  was  the  queerest  chariot  that  ever  popped 
out  of  a  fairy  tale.  The  wheels  were  covered  with  blue  and  yellow 
flowers  and  above  was  an  immense  Spanish  dagger  with  the  center 
removed,  and  in  its  place  stood  the  same  dear  old  Santa  Glaus,  whom 
Mary  had  seen  every  year  of  her  life.  Mary  had  never  before  seen 
him  in  his  desert  costume.  Instead  of  his  warm  fur  coat,  he  wore 
a  kakhi  coat  and  trousers,  with  high  top  boots,  a  bright  red  scarf 
around  his  neck  and  a  wide  sombrero  hat.  Below  the  hat  peeped  out 
the  same  kindly,  bright  eyes  above  the  rosy  cheeks  and  snowy  white 
beard.  Beside  him,  instead  of  the  usual  evergreen  tree,  a  large,  queer, 
crooked  limbed  Joshua  tree,  was  standing.  It  was  literally  laden  with 
presents,  and  all  was  lighted  up,  not  with  candles  or  wax  tapers, 
but  with  the  crimson  blossoms  of  the  Spanish  dagger.  On  every 
dagger  point  was  hung  a  gift.  There  were  grown  up  presents  for 
father  and  mother  and  the  cook  and  the  miners ;  and  there  was  a  real 
doll  with  blue  eyes  and  teeth,  that  said  "Papa,"  and  "Mama,"  and 
cried  exactly  like  the  dolls  found  in  far  away  New  York.  There  was 
a  tea  set  and  a  little  kakhi  suit.  There  was  a  cute  little  set  of  fur- 
niture made  from  cactus  burrs,  to  say  nothing  of  the  delicious  cactus 
candy,  and  other  sweetmeats  which  must  have  come  from  a  far  away 
town. 

Santa  descended  with  a  bow  and  a  smile  to  all,  distributed  the 
gifts,  joined  them  for  a  moment  at  breakfast,  for  the  dear  old  man 
works  very  hard  and  gets  hungry,  and  then  with  a  cheery,  "Merry 
Christmas  to  all,"  he  was  off  again,  leaving  behind  one  of  the  little 
burros  named  Bepo,  for  Mary's  own  use. 

As  he  sped  away  over  the  sand  toward  the  next  camp,  Mary  gave 
a  sigh  and  turned  to  her  mother  with  a  happy  laugh,  saying,  "I  guess 
Santa  looks  after  the  little  girls  and  boys  everywhere,  doesn't  he, 
Mamma  ? ' ' 


[6] 


TRADE  RATS 


little  clock  struck  twelve,  all  were  sleeping  soundly,  the 
tent  flap  was  rolled  away  and  a  streak  of  moonlight  stretched 
half  across  the  floor. 
Mary  and  her  mother  lay  on  a  bunk  and  beyond  the  partition 
one  could  hear  the  even  breathing  of  father  and  cousin  Jack.     All 
else  was  still  save  the  occasional  cry  of  a  night  hawk  or  the  far  dis- 
tant call  of  a  coyote. 

Slowly,  cautiously,  stealthily  into  this  silence  crept  a  tiny  object. 
Its  sharp,  black  eyes  flashed  fire  in  the  moonlight  and  in  its  small 
mouth  it  carefully  carried  a  cactus  burr. 

"Pst!  Mary,  did  you  hear  something?"  It  was  cousin  Jack's 
hoarse  whisper  that  broke  the  silence  and  awakened  Mary  from  a 
beautiful  dream  and  her  eyes  popped  open  wide.  She  snuggled 
closer  to  Mother  and  stared  into  the  moonlight.  All  she  could  hear 
was  a  funny,  little  scratching  sound,  unlike  any  she  had  ever  heard 
around  camp,  and  she  knew  not  what  it  meant.  None 
of  her  little  animal  friends  made  a  noise  like  that. 

Jack  was  out  of  bed,  had  lighted  a  candle  and  in  his 
pajamas,  was  searching  under  bunks,  tables  and  chairs 
for  the  thing  that  had  caused  the  noise.  Mary  sat 
up  in  bed,  in  time  to  hear  a  swift,  rustling  sound  and 
see  a  small  object  dart  out  of  the  tent  door.  Jack 
knew  it  would  do  no  good  to  search  outside  so  tumbled 
back  into  bed  and  once  more  all  was  still. 

Next  morning  at  breakfast  all  were  wondering  who 
the  strange  visitor  could  have  been,  but 
soon  the  incident  was  forgotten.    Toward 
noon,  Mary  went  to  a  vacant  bunk  where 
she  kept  her  clothes,  and  picked  up  her 
new   doll.      She   removed    its    dress    and 
looked  about  for  a  little,  red,  wool  gown, 
of  which  she  was  very  fond,  for  the 
day  was  chilly  and  it  looked  like  rain. 
But  the  gown  was  gone,  high  and  low 
she  looked,  but  find  it  she  could  not. 
At  last,  tired  out  with  searching,  she 
fell  asleep,  and  the  pretty  lost  gown 
remained  a  mystery. 

During    the    next    few    days 
strange  things  happened.  On  the 
day  following  one  of  Dolly's 
stockings  was  gone,  on  the 
next,  its  mate;  on  the  next 


a  pretty  little  velvet  bonnet,  and  so  on  for  a  week.  The  strangest  part 
of  it  was  that  something  or  somebody  was  bringing  in  little  sticks  of 
wood  and  cactus  burrs  and  piling  them  up  among  the  doll  clothes. 

At  the  end  of  the  week,  Jack  decided  to  solve  the  mystery.  He 
said  he  was  going  to  sit  up  all  night  and  see  what  kind  of  a  thing 
was  coming  into  the  tent  so  regularly.  He  didn't  do  exactly  what 
he  intended  to  do,  for  by  ten  o'clock  his  eyelids  grew  too  heavy  and 
he  was  fast  asleep  in  the  vacant  bunk  which  he  had  chosen  for  a 
hiding  place. 

Patter,  patter,  patter,  something  was  coming.  Jack  awoke  with 
a  start  of  expectation.  There  was  no  moon  tonight,  but  he  had  left 
a  candle  burning  in  a  distant  corner.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
back  a  chuckle  when  he  saw  a  big  gray  rat  dart  across  the  floor  with 
a  good  sized  twig  in  its  mouth.  Jack  kept  perfectly  still  and  the 
little  fellow,  not  even  seeing  him,  continued  its  way  across  the  floor  to 
the  bunk  on  which  sat  Jack  beside  the  doll  clothes.  It  clawed  its  way 
up  the  side  of  the  bunk,  dropped  the  twig,  then  selected  a  soft,  woolly 
skirt.  Then  it  turned  and  scampered  away  through  the  door  and  out 
into  the  sagebrush. 

Jack  gave  a  hearty  laugh  and  at  once  awakened  the  whole  family 
and  told  them  his  story. 

"Of  course,"  said  Father,  "it  was  a  trade  rat.  Why  didn't  we 
think  of  that  before?  The  hills  are  full  of  tiny  holes  where  they  bur- 
row down  and  build  their  nests." 

"But  what  about  the  twig?"  asked  Jack. 

"They  always  pay  for  what  they  take,"  was  the  unexpected  reply, 
"they  are  great  fellows  to  steal  both  food  and  clothing,  but  they  never 
take  anything  without  replacing  it  with  a  cactus  burr,  a  twig,  a  chip  of 
wood,  or  something  of  the  sort.  They  seem  to  think  it  wrong  not  to 
leave  something  in  place  of  what  they  take." 

"But  what  did  they  do  with  all  my  dolly's  clothes?"  asked  Mary, 
"surely  they  can't  wear  them." 

"Indeed  no,  my  dear  little  girl,"  said  Father,  "but  probably  if 
you  could  find  their  nest,  you  would  see  them  busy  at  work  lining  it 
with  the  soft,  downy  cloth  in  preparation  for  a  family  of  little  ones." 

Mary  talked  and  wondered  about  all  these  happenings,  and  you 
can  imagine  her  delight  when  big  Joe  came  running  up  to  camp  one 
day  and  told  her  he  had  found  her  rat's  nest.  The  men  had  been  digging 
on  a  little  hill  preparing  to  build  the  foundation  of  an  extra  tent.  The 
hill  was  covered  with  rat  holes  and  gopher  holes,  and  Joe  lifted  up  a 
shovel  full  of  adobe  and  underneath  was  a  little  cave  all  carefully  lined 
with  warm  clothing.  On  the  soft  bed  lay  mother  rat  and  six  tiny  little 
fellows  with  eyes  just  opened.  They  were  peering  around  with  a 
frightened  look  and  giving  shrill  little  squeaks  of  dismay. 


[8] 


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A  CHAT  WITH  MRS.  COTTONTAIL 

ONE  bright  Sunday  morning  Mary  wandered  away  from  camp 
alone.  The  fact  was  she  did  not  know  what  to  do.  At  home  she 
always  attended  church  with  Father  and  Mother,  but  here  the 
nearest  church  was  eighty  miles  away,  a  bit  too  far  for  a  morning  ride, 
you  see.  Father  did  not  work  Sunday,  and  as  it  was  about  the  only  time 
he  had  to  chat  with  Mother,  Mary  was  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

She  followed  along  a  little  trail  leading  over  a  small  hill  east  of 
camp.  Upon  arriving  at  the  top  she  noticed  a  clump  of  trees  beyond, 
and  they  looked  so  cool  and  shady  that  she  trotted  down  the  trail  and 
sat  beneath  them. 

Now  this  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  for  she  could  no  longer  see 
home,  and  there  were  many  trails  leading  in  all  directions.  A  little 
girl  of  six  years  could  hardly  be  expected  to  remember  the  way  back. 

She  was  soon  rested  and  decided  to  start  for  home.  She  was  get- 
ting hungry,  too.  A  tiny  hill  rose  from  the  clump  of  trees  in  every  di- 
rection, which  one  ought  she  to  choose?  She  was  not  a  child  to  be 
daunted  by  a  thing  like  this,  so  boldly  started  up  the  path  she  thought 
led  home.  She  climbed  to  the  top,  but  no  camp  was  in  sight,  no  tents, 
no  horses,  nothing  to  indicate  the  surroundings  of  those  dear  people 
that  she  did  want  dreadfully  to  see,  0 !  so  quickly. 

"Oh  me,  oh  my,  I  guess  I'm  lost!"  she  cried  with  a  little  break  in 
her  voice.  "I  hope  there  are  no  bears  in  these  hills.  Oh,  why  did  I 
run  away,  and  where  is  my  mamma?" 

She  ran  back  down  the  hill,  throwing  herself  on  the  ground  under 
the  trees  while  the  great  big  tears  chased  down  her  rosy  cheeks.  "Can 
I  help  you,  little  girl?"  said  a  tiny  voice  near  by,  "you  are  getting 
your  pretty  dress  soiled  and  your  hair  will  be  full  of  sand. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  rabbits  could  talk,"  and  Mary's  eyes  grew 
big  and  round  with  wonder.  There  before  her  stood  a  little  cottontail 

[9] 


perched  upon  its  haunches  and  blinking  at  her  with  its  cute  little  pink 
eyes. 

"Yes,  we  desert  rabbits  could  always  talk,  didn't  you  know  that? 
But,  where  is  your  mamma  and  what  are  you  doing  out  here  alone!" 

"I  guess  I'm  lost,"  answered  Mary,  "but  you  live  here,  can't  you 
find  my  home?" 

"No,  dear  little  girl,  I  can't,  and  I  will  tell  you  why.  Mr.  Man 
with  many  brothers  and  sisters  lives  in  your  home.  Mr.  Man  has  a  gun 
and  he  uses  that  gun  to  kill  poor  little  rabbits  like  me.  Don't  you  re- 
member eating  some  for  dinner  yesterday?  Well,  on  that  day  several 
of  our  dear  little  playfellows  were  killed.  Now  you  see  I  don't  care  to 
be  eaten,  so  must  not  go  near  your  home,  even  to  show  you  the  way." 

Mary  gave  a  little  shudder,  for  she  did  remember  eating  rabbit  for 
dinner  the  day  before  and  that  she  liked  it,  too ;  but  she  made  a  resolve 
never  to  do  so  again. 

"But  I'll  not  desert  you  for  all  that,"  continued  the  strange  friend. 
"My  home  is  close  by  and  as  you  are  but  a  wee  bit  of  a  girl  and  have  no 
gun,  I'll  take  you  there." 

Mary  was  delighted.  To  visit  a  real  rabbit  village  and  to  be  taken 
there  by  Mrs.  Babbit,  herself,  would  be  a  strange  adventure,  indeed. 

Mrs.  Babbit  led  the  way  down  a  narrow  path  worn  by  the  little 
feet  of  her  numerous  family.  Mary  trotted  along  behind  when  suddenly 
the  rabbit  stood  up,  gave  a  jump  and  darted  away  into  the  bushes. 

Mary,  startled,  looked  up  in  surprise.  There  stood  cousin  Jack 
gazing  down  at  her  with  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eyes ;  why !  she,  her- 
self, was  lying,  her  head  pillowed  on  her  chubby  arms,  directly  under 
the  shady  tree  where  she  had  thrown  herself  in  despair  but  a  few  mo- 
ments before. 

"Well,  little  girl,  what  have  you  been  dreaming  about?"  he  asked. 
"Mother  is  sure  you  are  lost  or  eaten  up  by  some  of  your  wild  friends." 

At  this,  Mary  stood  up  and  looked  around  indignantly.  "Did  I 
really  dream  about  all  those  dreadful  things  Mrs.  Cottontail  told  me?" 
she  said. 


[10] 


RABBITS  AND  CACTUS  BURRS 


m 


'AEY  and  Bepo,  the  burro,  soon  became  fast  friends.  Few 
burros  lead  as  happy  a  life  as  being  the  constant  playmate  of 
'  a  merry  child.  Bepo  seemed  to  appreciate  this  fact  and  loved 
Mary  accordingly.  Many  a  prospecting  trip  did  they  take  on  their 
own  account  over  the  network  of  trails  leading  from  camp  to  the 
numerous  shafts  and  tunnels  of  the  mine. 

You  city  children  and  even  you  country  boys  and  girls  would  never 
dream  of  all  the  delightful  and  interesting  things  they  found.  I  suppose 
you  think  of  the  desert  as  being  a  flat  stretch  of  sand  with  nothing  on 
it,  like  the  maps  of  the  desert  of  Sahara,  in  Africa?  I  know  I  used  to. 
But  indeed  it  is  not  so.  Many  strange  forms  of  life  exist,  both  plant 
and  animal,  as  we  shall  soon  learn. 

This  particular  morning  as  they  started  out,  Mary  noticed  that 
the  ground  was  covered  with  cactus  burrs.  Did  you  ever  see  a  cactus 
burr?  They  are  similar  to  those  you  find  in  the  country,  but  larger, 
with  pointed  daggers  sticking  out  in  all  directions,  and  they  grow  on 
a  crooked,  prickly  stalk  or  spine  in  the  most  comical  way  imaginable. 
As  they  ambled  along  they  discovered  more  and  yet  more  of  them. 
Mary,  being  an  inquisitive  child,  jumped  down  from  Bepo's  back  for 
a  closer  inspection  of  the  strange  things.  Then  she  discovered  a  queer 
thing.  She  had  seen  lots  of  burrs  before  but  these  were  different.  All 
the  sharp  daggers  had  been  removed,  the  burrs  had  been  split  open  and 
the  soft  centers  taken  out. 

Mary  looked  all  around,  who  could  have  done  it?  No  man  could 
have  opened  all  those  burrs,  it  would  have  taken  him  weeks.  He  would 
have  pricked  his  fingers  many  times  and  often  besides. 

Then  she  heard  a  faint  rustling  in  the  bushes  near  by.  Softly  she 
tiptoed  behind  a  clump  of  sagebrush  and  peeked  over.  There  was  a 
little  rabbit  nibbling  away  at  a  cactus  burr.  He  handled  it  very  care- 
fully to  guard  against  pricks  and  very  daintily  nibbled  off,  one  by  one, 
the  tiny  daggers.  When  all  were  gone  he  split  open  the  burr,  sucked 

[11] 


out  the  juice,  then  nibbled  up  the  soft  center.  So  you  see,  even  on  this 
sandy  desert,  Nature  cares  for  all  her  children. 

Mary  was  so  pleased  at  the  sight  that  she  clapped  her  little  hands 
in  glee  and  cried,  "You  dear,  cute  little  thing!"  But  Mr.  Eabbit  was 
not  used  to  little  girls.  He  looked  up  suddenly  with  fright  in  his  tiny 
pink  eyes,  then  sprang  away  into  the  bushes. 

Mary  led  Bepo  around  to  a  rock  and  clambered  onto  his  back.  As 
they  slowly  stubbed  along  over  the  rough  trail  they  surprised  many  a 
family  of  rabbits  and  not  a  few  were  nibbling  away  at  the  prickly 
cactus  burrs. 

You  can  ride  for  miles  over  the  desert  without  finding  water,  no 
lakes,  no  rivers,  no  little  stream  even ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  sweet 
juices  in  the  center  of  these  burrs  many  small  animals  would  die  of 
thirst. 


[12] 


m. 
. . 


<X> 

Cj 


THE  DANGEROUS  PET 

'ARY,  with  her  mother,  was  taking  a  short  stroll  just  before 
|  sundown.  As  they  were  about  to  return  they  espied  the  largest 
and  strangest  lizard  they  ever  saw.  It  was  nearly  two  feet  long, 
with  a  perfectly  round  body,  a  broad,  flat  head,  short  legs  and  a  short, 
blunt  tail.  It  was  a  chunky  little  animal,  all  covered  with  a  rough  skin 
like  an  alligator  and  dotted  with  square  warts.  It  seemed  very  tame 
and  followed  Mary  into  the  tent  where  she  made  a  warm  nest  for  it  in 
the  corner  near  her  bunk.  It  was  very  fond  of  being  petted  and  would 
lie  and  rub  its  head  against  Mary's  hand.  When  Father  returned  at 
night  he  was  much  pleased  with  the  strange  pet  and  encouraged  Mary 
to  keep  it,  thinking,  of  course,  that  it  was  some  strange  overgrown 
lizard.  The  question  was,  what  should  they  feed  it?  First  they  tried 
grubs  and  worms  which  were  not  touched;  then  bread,  meat,  insects 
and  all  sorts  of  things,  but  nothing  would  he  taste.  At  last  someone 
thought  of  eggs  and  that  was  apparently  just  what  the  little  fellow 
wanted,  and  that  is  what  he  lived  on  during  the  month  Mary  had  him 
for  her  pet. 

At  the  end  of  that  month  big  Ben,  the  foreman,  came  into  Mary's 
tent  to  repair  the  floor.  The  first  Mary  knew  that  anything  was  wrong 
was  when  he  gave  a  scream,  calling  to  her  to  keep  away  from  the  tent. 
Her  father,  nearby,  ran  to  see  what  was  the  trouble;  Ben  pointed  to 
the  big  lizard  and  cried,  "A  gila  monster,  let  us  kill  him  quickly!" 
Mary  and  her  parents  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  They  had  never  heard 
of  such  an  animal.  Ben,  however,  had  spent  years  on  the  desert  and 
knew  well  its  dangers.  But  he  had  no  gun  and  all  he  could  do  was  to 
take  a  stick  and  push  the  thing  out  of  doors.  Then  a  queer  thing  hap- 
pened. When  the  hot  sun  shone  down  on  the  gila  monster  (pronounced 


[13] 


heela)  it  was  no  longer  tame  and  gentle,  but  would  snap  at  anyone  who 
came  near  and  acted  ugly,  continuing  to  hiss  with  his  mouth  wide  open, 
on  the  lookout  for  the  first  sign  of  an  enemy. 

A  squirrel  came  out  of  the  brush  and  ran  a  bit  too  near,  when  the 
big  lizard  fastened  its  fangs  in  the  poor  little  animal  and  turned  over 
with  it  in  its  mouth.  The  poison  is  in  its  lower  jaw  and  when  he  turns 
over  it  flows  out.  The  squirrel  died  in  a  very  few  moments  from  the 
effects  of  the  poison  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Ben  had  meantime  shot  the 
gila  monster  through  the  head. 

Mary's  parents  were  horrified  when  they  realized  what  a  danger- 
ous pet  their  little  girl  had  been  playing  with  for  so  many  weeks.  They 
determined  to  seek  Ben's  advice  hereafter  before  housing  any  more 
strange  animals. 

But  Mary  was  not  in  great  danger  for  generally  the  little  reptiles 
are  tame  indoors,  but  out  of  doors  in  the  sunshine  they  become  cross 
and  ugly  and  their  bite  is  more  dangerous  than  that  of  a  rattlesnake. 


[14] 


Palm  Springs 


A  VISIT  TO  PALM 
SPRINGS 

'OTHER  was  unused  to  the  desert, 
so  Father,  having  arranged  his 
business  so  he  could  leave  it  with 
Big  Ben,  the  foreman,  decided  to  take  a 
vacation  and  all  were  going  over  to  Palm 
Springs  for  a  few  days. 

Now,  Palm  Springs  is  in  California 
near  the  great  Mountain  of  San  Jacinto 
and  it  took  a  day  and  a  half  to  get  there. 
It  was  great  fun  for  Mary  and  Jack  to  get 
into  a  sleeping  car  and  go  speeding  along 
over  the  desert  again.  They  recognized 
many  of  their  old  friends  on  the  way,  most 
of  whom  they  knew  nothing  about  the  last 
time  they  rode  on  a  train.  Then  it  grew 
dark  and  they  could  no  longer  see  out  of 
the  window. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast  the 
conductor  opened  the  door  and  called  out, 
"Palm  Springs." 

They  hurriedly  gathered  together 
their  bags  and  suitcases  and  left  the  train. 

My!  but  wasn't  it  cold,  and  didn't  the 
wind  blow?  Folks  could  hardly  stand 
straight  and  the  wind  was  blowing  right 
off  the  snow-capped  mountains  that  were 
all  around  the  place,  making  it  seem  colder 
still.  Mary  was  hurried  into  the  stage  and 
before  they  had  gone  a  mile  their  faces 
were  covered  with  sand  blowing  off  the 
desert  and  you  could  never  have  told  that 
their  clothes  had  ever  been  clean. 


[15] 


Palm  Springs  itself  was  five  miles  from  the  station,  but  suddenly 
the  wind  stopped  blowing  and  it  was  warm  as  summer,  then  pretty  soon 
they  heard  dogs  barking  and  rode  right  through  an  Indian  village. 

Some  of  the  squaws  were  making  baskets,  but  most  of  them  were 
out  in  the  fields  working  just  like  men.  Imagine  Mamma  doing  work 
like  that.  It  was  interesting  to  see  them,  though,  especially  the  little 
papooses  being  carried  in  a  little  box  fastened  to  the  mother's  back. 

Just  beyond  was  Palm  Springs  settlement  itself,  with  lots  of  tents, 
several  houses,  a  store  and  a  hotel.  They  stopped  at  the  hotel,  and 
after  dinner  looked  around  the  funny  little  store  where  they  sold  a 
little  of  everything  while  a  phonograph  ground  out  wheezy  music. 
They  visited  the  funny  little  cottages  with  their  roofs  and  sides  all 
covered  with  big  palm  leaves  instead  of  boards.  Then  they  went  up 
to  the  hot  springs. 

There  was  a  stream  of  water  shooting  up  in  the  air  part  of  the 
time,  but  generally  just  bubbling  up  a  little  higher  than  the  pond  itself, 
which  was  about  six  feet  wide  and  ten  feet  long.  It  didn't  look  deep, 
but  the  man  at  the  springs  told  them  the  center  shaft  was  sometimes 
as  big  as  a  well  and  no  one  knew  how  deep.  Father  had  been  there  be- 
fore and  he  wanted  to  take  Mary  into  the  spring,  so  with  Jack  they 
hired  -bathing  suits  and  went  down.  It  was  very  funny.  They  thought, 
of  course,  it  was  going  to  be  deep,  but  the  bottom  was  hard  sand,  and  the 
water  just  covered  their  ankles.  Father  took  Mary  in  first,  but  the 
water  did  not  become  deeper,  but  all  at  once  the  sand  gave  way.  Father 
said  it  was  quick  sand  which  somewhat  frightened  her,  but  he  didn't 
seem  scared  so  she  tried  not  to  be.  They  went  down  and  down  into  the 
sand  which  seemed  to  tighten  around  them,  when  all  at  once,  when 
Mary  was  up  to  her  shoulders,  the  spring  gave  a  gurgle  and  tossed 
them  out  into  shallow  water.  Mary  was  frightened,  but  the  rest  laughed 
at  her,  especially  Jack,  who  was  fourteen  and  thought  he  was  almost  a 
man.  He  said  he  could  walk  around  in  it  all  right — the  old  water  could 
not  toss  him  up  like  that.  It  was  just  bubbling  over  a  little  then,  so  he 
marched  boldly  in.  But  when  he  felt  the  warm  watery  sand  hugging 
him  tighter  and  tighter  and  sucking  him  down,  he  thought  surely  he 
was  lost  and  wished  he  had  not  bragged.  But  just  then  the  spring 
gurgled  louder  and  a  high  stream  shot  up  and  in  it  was  Cousin  Jack, 
who  landed  safe  and  sound  beside  them.  I  can  tell  you  he  was  a  happy 
boy. 

They  soon  became  accustomed  to  the  idea  and  spent  an  hour  of 
fun  wading  in  and  being  gently  but  firmly  tossed  out.  Then  they  went 
back  to  Dr.  Murray's  Hotel  where  Mother  met  them  at  the  door. 
After  a  supper  of  fresh  eggs,  nice  biscuits,  strawberries  and  cream, 
they  retired  to  their  tent  and  when  all  were  in  bed  Father  rolled  up 
the  sides  so  they  could  look  out  at  the  stars  and  breathe  the  fresh, 
warm  air  softly  blown  to  them  by  the  gentle  mountain  breezes. 


[16] 


The  Road-  Runner 


.  •M^l^^^:M^^ff^^^- 


«ViCK 


THE  ROAD-RUNNER 

OF  all  Mary's  pets  she  liked  her  road-runners  best.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  road-runner?  It  makes  its  home  on  the  desert  where  you 
would  find  it  impossible  to  get  food,  yet  this  little  bird  finds 
plenty  and  leads  a  happy  existence.  He  looks  much  like  a  pheasant  with 
broad  wings,  a  long,  broad  tail  and  a  crest  that  stands  up  very  stiff  and 
straight.  The  tail  is  very  flexible,  and  many  people  who  have  lived  on 
the  desert  a  long  time,  say  they  can  almost  tell  what  the  road-runner's 
thoughts  are  by  the  way  he  holds  his  tail.  If  you  can  make  friends 
with  the  little  bird  and  get  near  enough  to  it  you  can  see  the  beautiful 
colors  in  its  feathery  coat.  The  olive  green  wings  are  edged  with  white, 
and  the  crest  is  of  dark,  deep  blue.  The  bird  is  about  twenty  inches 
long,  including  the  tail. 

A  pair  had  built  a  nest  in  a  clump  of  cactus  a  short  distance  from 
camp.  The  first  time  Mary  espied  them  was  the  day  after  her  arrival. 
One  came  up  over  a  low  ridge  and  stood  looking  at  Mary  with  curiosity 
expressed  in  its  long,  flexible  tail.  This,  of  course,  aroused  Mary's  in- 
terest and  she  hastened  away  to  make  friends.  But  it  was  not  to  be. 
Very  quickly  the  bird  retreated  to  its  cactus  patch.  But  it  came  again 
the  next  day  and  the  next. 

At  first  Mary  was  afraid  of  frightening  it  away,  but  one  day  it 
came  as  she  was  eating  a  thick  slice  of  bread  and  butter  and  she  tossed 
it  some  crumbs.  As  before,  he  scampered  away  to  a  safe  distance,  but 
there  he  stopped.  Mary  stepped  back  and  waited  and  pretty  soon  the 
little  fellow  returned  and  rapidly  ate  up  all  the  crumbs.  He  then  gave 
a  little  toss  of  his  tail  as  if  to  say  "thank  you,"  and  went  home. 

After  this  Mary  and  the  little  road-runner  soon  became  fast  friends, 
and  later  Mary  taught  him  that  Cousin  Jack  was  his  friend,  too.  He 
soon  learned  that  the  big  horn  that  the  cook  blew  three  times  a  day 
meant  something  to  eat ;  and  was  always  on  hand  to  get  his  share.  He 
would  always  save  a  goodly  part  of  this  share  and  carry  it  home  to  his 
mate. 

Mary  and  Jack  each  had  a  burro  and  often  they  would  take  short 
rides  to  the  nearby  camps,  for  Jack  was  a  steady,  reliable  boy  and 
Mary's  father  knew  he  would  take  care  to  see  that  no  harm  came  to  her. 

[17] 


The  trail  led  by  the  road-runner's  nest  and  whenever  he  saw  the 
little  girl  and  the  big  boy  coming  along  on  their  burros  he  would  dart 
out  into  the  road  and  rush  ahead  at  full  speed.  He  could  always  keep 
ahead,  too.  Try  as  they  might  Mary  and  Jack  were  unable  to  get  ahead 
of  him.  When  he  grew  weary  of  the  sport  he  would  turn  suddenly  and 
hurry  into  the  brush  until  they  had  passed. 

In  some  ways,  though,  he  was  a  nuisance.  Mary's  uncle  had  sent 
them  a  box  containing  a  dozen  chickens  so  that  they  could  have  some 
fresh  eggs  as  a  change  from  the  cold  storage  eggs  commonly  found  in 
mining  camps.  Now,  the  little  road-runner  would  often  try  to  slip  into 
the  chicken  yard  when  no  one  was  looking.  He  would  wait  indifferently, 
promenading  up  and  down  in  a  dignified  manner  until  one  of  the  hens 
cackled.  He  knew  this  meant  a  fresh  egg  and  he  would  deliberately 
march  up,  peck  a  hole  in  the  new  laid  egg  and  as  deliberately  swallow 
the  contents. 


[18] 


*   . 

•f:    •    .•        <• 


H-        6.        V  I 


Colorado  Desert  (Ocatilla  in  foreground) 


A  STRANGE  CAPTURE 

ONE  warm  day  in  February  a  great  lazy  rattlesnake,  over  three 
feet  long,  glided  out  from  under  a  broad,  flat  rock.  It  slowly 
wound  its  way  through  sagebrush  and  cactus  until  it  found  an 
open  space  where  the  hot  rays  of  the  noonday  sun  fell  uninterrupted. 

Here  it  stretched  itself  out  at  full  length,  and  after  enjoying  the 
warmth  of  the  sunshine  for  a  little  while,  gradually  grew  drowsy  and  at 
last  fell  asleep. 

Exactly  one  hour  later,  a  faint  rustling  sound  was  heard.  From 
behind  the  same  rock  peeped  out  an  excited  looking  little  creature.  It 
was  no  other  than  our  little  friend  the  road-runner.  But  why  so  agi- 
tated and  disturbed?  Its  little  tail  was  bobbing  up  and  down,  and  its 
beautiful  bluish-black  crest  was  raised  as  high  as  possible.  He  had 
spied  his  lifelong  enemy,  the  rattlesnake. 

Suddenly,  as  quickly  as  he  came,  he  disappeared  from  sight.  He 
was  soon  back,  carrying  in  his  beak  a  cactus  burr,  which  he  placed  on 
the  ground  near  the  sleeping  snake.  Back  and  forth  he  went,  each  time 
returning  with  a  prickly  burr.  Before  long  he  had  a  hedge  entirely 
surrounding  poor,  unsuspecting  Mr.  Snake.  Then  one  more  burr  was 
brought  and  quietly  dropped  on  the  snake's  head. 

Now,  the  skin  of  a  snake  is  very  sensitive  and  he  immediately  woke 
up.  Of  course  his  first  motion  rubbed  the  delicate  akin  against  the 
prickly  burr.  He  gave  a  vicious  rattle  and  started  to  move  away  from 
the  troublesome  thing.  He  struck  at  one  side  of  the  hedge,  then  an- 
other. He  grew  more  and  more  angry.  He  would  try  to  poke  his  nose 
between  the  burrs,  but  on  being  pricked  by  the  sharp  points,  he  would 
draw  back  and  try  in  another  place.  At  last,  overcome  with  anger  and 

[19] 


mortification,  he  drove  his  poisonous  fangs  into  his  own  body  and 
soon  died. 

Mr.  Boad-runner,  meanwhile,  had  retreated  to  a  safe  distance  and 
was  much  interested  in  all  that  was  happening.  When  sure  the  snake 
was  dead,  he  cautiously  darted  up  to  the  hedge  and  gave  the  dead  snake 
a  series  of  sharp  pecks  with  his  long  beak  as  an  additional  safeguard. 
Then  he  settled  down  and  ate  a  portion,  carrying  the  best  part  away  to 
his  nest  to  share  with  his  mate. 

Now,  if  that  snake  had  kept  his  temper  and  not  become  excited,  he 
might  have  realized  that  by  poking  his  nose  under  the  burrs  he  could 
lift  them  and  get  away  with  only  a  few  scratches. 

However,  there  are  times  when  even  boys  and  girls  let  their  anger 
get  the  best  of  them,  so  why  should  we  expect  more  wisdom  in  a  poor, 
foolish  snake? 

Sometimes  the  snake  doesn't  kill  itself,  but  only  becomes  tired  out 
and  lies  down  motionless,  when  the  little  road-runner  comes  over  and 
pecks  him  to  death.  There  are  only  a  few  animals,  birds  or  insects  who 
can  kill  a  rattlesnake,  and  the  road-runner  does  this  about  as  neatly 
as  any. 


[20] 


• 


A  Desert  May  Party 


A  DESERT  MAY  PARTY 

,  Mamma,  the  very  idea!  Who  ever  heard  of  a  desert  May 
party?"  I  hear  some  tiny  girl  exclaim,  "A  desert  is  all  sand, 
there  were  flowers  there  it  would  not  be  desert  at  all." 

Ah,  yes,  my  dear,  I  used  to  think  so,  too,  but  to  Mary  it  was  no  sur- 
prise. She  had  spent  the  winter  on  the  desert,  had  seen  the  heavy  rains, 
and  afterwards  had  watched  how  rapidly  the  sturdy  little  green  shoots 
would  push  their  way  up  through  the  hard  unsympathetic  soil.  Gen- 
erally once  a  year  the  desert  puts  on  its  party  dress  and  is  dotted  with 
a  gorgeous  mass  of  blossoms. 

The  rains  come  at  intervals  in  the  winter  and  early  spring  and  the 
heavier  and  more  frequent  they  are,  the  greater  will  be  the  flower 
growth.  The  March  and  April  rains  this  year  had  been  heavy.  There 
had  been  days  when  Cousin  Jack  had  come  in  with  his  raincoat  dripping 
and  declared  that  he  knew  Mt.  Kenyon  would  be  washed  away.  Now 
and  then  a  cloudburst  would  strike  terror  to  Mary's  tender  heart.  She 
had  gone  out  when  the  weather  cleared  and  watched  the  warm  earth 
rise  up  and  break,  while  the  little  green  things  peeped  through  and  took 
their  first  look  at  the  sun.  The  ground  was  always  warm  and  it  was 
amazing  to  see  how  rapidly  things  would  grow  if  you  but  gave  them 
water. 

The  thing  that  now  troubled  Mary  was  the  fact  that  she  had  no  one 
to  ask  to  share  her  party.  Of  course  there  was  Jack,  but  Jack  was  only 
a  boy  and  a  May  party,  above  all  else,  means  girls. 

It  is  strange  what  unexpected  things  happen  at  times,  even  in  lone- 
some mining  camps.  The  thought  had  barely  entered  her  little  curly 
head  when  she  looked  away  over  toward  the  mountains  and  saw  a  big, 
lumbering  wagon,  drawn  by  four  strong  horses,  come  creeping  down 

[21] 


the  road.  Long  before  it  reached  camp  she  could  see  that  there  were 
several  people  on  it  and  then  she  saw  the  children. 

There  were  four  of  them,  three  little  hlue  eyed  girls  with  flaxen 
hair  and  a  slightly  older  brother  with  the  same  light  hair  but  who  looked 
at  the  world  through  a  pair  of  big,  laughing  brown  eyes.  They  were 
staying  twenty  miles  up  the  valley  with  their  parents  who  had  charge 
of  a  small  cattle  ranch,  and  Mother  and  children  were  having  a  holiday 
going  to  town  with  Father.  They  stopped  to  water  the  horses  and  you 
may  be  sure  that  it  did  not  take  long  for  the  children  to  become  ac- 
quainted. Not  many  little  folks  live  on  the  desert  and  playmates  are 
almost  unknown.  As  it  turned  out,  Father  and  Mother  went  on  to  town 
alone  and  left  the  children  to  enjoy  one  another  until -their  return  on 
the  following  day. 

Mary's  mother  was  always  planning  surprises,  so  when  she  ap- 
peared with  two  large  lunch  baskets  heaped  with  goodies,  Mary  realized 
that  this  would  be  a  May  day  party  unlike  any  she  had  ever  before  seen. 
Six  burros  were  kept  ever  ready  in  the  corral  and  these  were  caught 
and  saddled  for  the  children.  Mother  rode  her  Indian  pony,  a  Christmas 
gift  from  Father.  As  they  passed  the  mill  and  wound  up  the  trail  by 
the  main  shaft  of  the  mine,  the  men  were  changing  shift  and  as  the 
cage  swung  up  to  the  surface  the  miners  called  a  cheery  good-bye,  for 
they  were  very  fond  of  Mary. 

They  ascended  the  next  rise  and  what  they  saw  was  fairyland.  They 
were  at  the  entrance  of  a  canyon.  A  tiny  stream  of  water  ran  in  the 
center  and  beside  it  wound  a  narrow  trail.  Foothills  rolled  up  on  either 
side  and  the  steep  walls  were  a  mass  of  flowers.  Wild  heliotrope, 
thistle,  poppies,  white,  pink  and  yellow  gillias,  long-leaved  wild 
tobacco,  with  its  rich  yellow  blossoms,  all  were  massed  together  and 
far  more  beautifully  arranged  than  the  stiff  gardens  in  Central  Park. 

"Aunt  Louise,"  called  Jack  to  Mamma,  who  was  riding  behind 
with  the  little  girls,  "isn't  that  a  campfire  up  on  the  next  hill?" 

"No,  Jack,"  she  replied,  "not  a  fire,  only  a  smoke  tree.  That  is 
why  it  received  its  name.  The  branches  are  grayish  with  tiny  sage- 
green  leaves  and  at  a  distance  it  is  often  mistaken  for  a  fire  as  it  is  all 
so  delicate  and  filmy." 

By  this  time  Jack  had  ridden  ahead  for  a  closer  inspection  of  the 
bush  and  startled  us  all  by  a  little  cry  of  pain. 

"Be  careful,  Jack,  it  is  also  called  the  porcupine  tree  by  the 
miners,"  called  Mother,  "the  tiny  leaves  are  nothing  more  than  very 
sharp  and  prickly  spines." 

"Why  is  it  that  so  many  desert  plants  have  stickers  and  thorns?" 
asked  Tom,  the  rancher's  son. 

"Why,  can't  you  see  for  yourself,  Tom?"  called  back  Jack,  "if 
they  weren't  sharp  and  prickly  all  these  little  desert  animals  would  tear 
them  up  when  they  were  young  and  tender  and  they  would  never  grow 
to  be  full  sized. ' ' 

[22] 


"Yes,"  said  Mother,  "it  is  simply  the  way  that  nature  protects  her 
young  so  that  it  will  not  be  destroyed  in  infancy.  There  are  still  other 
protections  necessary  on  the  desert  for  the  hot  sun  would  otherwise  kill 
many  plants.  A  large  number  are  covered  with  a  soft  down  which  is 
really  a  mass  of  tiny  air  cells  that  keep  the  stems  and  leaves  cool  and 
protect  them  from  the  hot  sun's  rays." 

"And  see,  there  is  a  creosote  bush,  its  rich  green  leaves  are  covered 
with  a  kind  of  varnish  which  keeps  them  cool  the  same  as  the  hairs 
would  do.  See  how  the  recent  rains  have  brought  out  a  mass  of  blos- 
soms at  the  tip  of  every  branch,  what  a  delicate  flower,  held  in  a  pale 
green  cup.  And  there  is  another  smoke  tree,  nearer  the  water  and  so 
it  has  blossomed  earlier,  every  point  has  a  gorgeous  purple  flower." 

"See  the  funny  bunch  of  sticks  over  here,  Mamma,"  called  Mary, 
"they  look  like  a  lot  of  candles  sticking  up." 

"And  that  is  just  what  they  are  called,  my  dear,  ocatilla,  or  candle 
cactus.  They  have  no  leaves  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year,  but  after 
the  rains  they  leave  out  and  are  soon  covered  with  those  beautiful 
scarlet  bells." 

"Yes,"  answered  Mary,  "they  look  like  some  beautiful  winged 
bird  just  about  to  fly  away.  And  how  tall  the  candles  are,  lots  higher 
than  our  tents  back  in  camp." 

It  would  take  too  long  to  tell  you  about  all  the  desert  beauties  that 
the  children  saw,  they  all  agreed  that  nothing  as  beautiful  was  ever 
seen  "back  East"  where  it  rains  half  the  time. 

At  noon  they  sat  down  under  a  clump  of  mesquite  and  ate  the 
splendid  luncheon.  The  pure  fresh  air  had  made  them  ravenously  hun- 
gry. The  mesquite  was  a  low,  stocky  tree  which  did  not  grow  high  but 
spread  out  in  every  direction,  branches  thick  with  foliage. 

"Why  don't  the  old  tree  grow  up  higher  and  not  bother  about  hav- 
ing so  many  side  branches?"  asked  Jack. 

Then  Mother  told  him.  "Why,  can't  you  see?"  she  asked.  "The 
sun  is  so  hot  that  it  kills  the  tiny  buds  on  the  end  of  the  branch ;  but  the 
tree  is  determined  to  grow,  just  the  same,  so  it  sends  out  side  buds, 
where  the  sun's  rays  are  not  as  hot  and  the  short,  stubby  tree  is  the 
result. ' ' 

"At  any  rate  it  makes  a  fine  shade  and  that  is  all  we  need  just 
now, ' '  answered  Jack. 

They  rested  under  the  wide  spreading  branches  until  the  sun  shone  a 
bit  less  fiercely,  then  they  slowly  rode  homeward  through  the  beautiful 
blossoms,  arriving  just  at  dusk,  very  hungry,  a  little  tired,  but  happy 
in  the  thought  that  they  had  visited  one  of  the  strangest  and  most 
beautiful  corners  of  the  earth. 


[23] 


